


The Price of Gold

by divinitea



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: AU, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Demon Bill Cipher, F/F, Human Bill Cipher, M/M, Royalty, Triangle Bill Cipher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinitea/pseuds/divinitea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is worth paying; if you pull the right strings.</p><p>[Medieval AU with some royal clash♥]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paid through Campaign

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really sure what I'm doing but I wanted to try my hand at some billdip too, so here we are! ( ´ ▽ `;;)ﾉ♥  
> medieval-esque au thats not intended to be accurate, just fun aesthetic !!

At this hour, the market would be bustling—full of children throwing on acts of mischief, stirring trouble for the vendors and their stock—to later be scolded by their worn, jaded mothers. Red hands would be set away to work by digging subtly into the fruit which verged the peak of its ripeness, begging to be taken away and feed a hungry, gluttonous mouth. Flavors would be wafting down the streets, both foul and sweet to leave a tangy, indescribable mix on the tip of one’s tongue. A sense of liveliness kept the air fresh and the townspeople far more jaunty; talking in loud, cheerful voices to be heard amongst the bustle, a sort of tone that otherwise was reserved between those at a tavern, laughing like old friends indulging in nostalgia.  
This hour—it was normally the highlight of the twins’ week, being able to rowdily meander through the endless street corners, having learned the ins and outs of the location by many years spent venturing with bright, wide-eyes seeking adventure in every nook and cranny, since there was always something new—be it a book, a sparkly token, or person. The curious nature that surrounded Dipper and the excitable aura Mabel carried mixed for a duo destined to stumble into thrilling mishaps hand in hand.

But now, a hush had fallen and taken to filling in each crack of the beastly business system, as if the whole town had been holding its breath at once, ready to breathe the sigh of relief that soon would come as one. The streets which held the flavorful and strange vendors were scarce, not a soul following the winding streetmaps, low-end businesses closed in favor of attending with bated breath about the gates fronted by the town square. Rumors had been eaten up and spewed out among anyone who had the ears to listen; rumors that were stomped out and scorned by the local guards, enough to keep its music softly spoken and the ever more eagerly taken in.

Unlike the hour, the Pines twins were safe and sound up in their attic room, per their two guardians assertive demands, guised as a “choice” between being grounded forever or staying in the comfort of a fairly carefree regulation. The thrills of rumors had not escaped their investigative ears, unfailing in tempting them to the plaza like many others to watch in awe as the promised events unfolded truthfully and not just by ear, bringing a grand change--a wonder for all to come and see the beginning of. Maybe both had tried the puppy dog eyed method a handful of times approaching countless, nearly succeeding on Stan but never getting past Ford’s steely paternal leer and tone. Each time the elder reassured the teens that the rumors were a farce; the potential danger was never worthwhile, especially if it threatened the royal family the alchemist so devotedly worked for.

Dipper Pines sat on his bed, trying to fumble through a book that had difficulty grasping his attention, the words slipping down the page and away from his eyes each time he attempted to soak them in. His teeth worried on the quill, the obnoxious chewing noise not going unheard of by his sister who remained face down in pillows sulking. The tip, ridded of ink, should be marking up the page with insights and notes, the book pertaining to the latest inexplicable supernatural outbreak of gnomes invading prized gardens, stealing decorations and flowers which had been blossoming for appearance and perfumes alike. Everyone kept complaining it was gophers, rats, rabbits—but none of these creatures were nefarious for their pointy red caps. It kept the boy busy.

Every so often his lacking train of thought was abruptly ruined by a dramatic sigh, the sound of noodly limbs kicking around in the covers that had almost, _almost_ freed themselves from her bed, away from the tyranny of Mabel’s infamous pout. An overdramatic whine sounded off as more feathers were flailed into the air, the girl’s poor pillows receiving the brunt of her frustration and occasionally trying to float into her brother’s unruly hair.

The girl swore how almost _everyone_ throughout town was out today, as even without the rumor leaving sparks of wonder and worry in the air it was a beautiful midsummer day. Clear of clouds, bright blue sky—the ideal weather and Mabel even promised if they could slip outside they’d do whatever nerdy task the male wanted to first. She thought her brother was on the same boring, boring, _boring_ , standpoint her grunkles were. It was shown by the extra clump of feathers that landed right on his book, the glare he shot back going unnoticed by the girl practically suffocating into her pillows.  
Despite Dipper appearing indifferent about the situation he was far from it, teeth gnashing and almost breaking the poor defenseless pen in two. His curiosity was teeming, and despite the high probability many townspeople would stand outside looking like buffoons for a full day, he needed to know.

No one could simply joke about a coup.

Yet the twins remained indoors, locked away under the patrol of those running the “knick knack”, “amazingly real enchanted items and potions” shop below. Not physically locked—but most knew all too well where the centric interest of the day would be heading, and it was no place for young adults vaguely tied to the castle to be.

When he received a facefull of abused pillow, feathers pluming out as a wondrous display, Dipper fully understood the completeness that the huffy treatment encompassed him as well. Familiar chocolate brown eyes were focused on his, lips drawn into a puffy pout that had been forming over the past few hours spent toiling in the room that was growing congested by the day’s immense heat.

“We can’t stay in here all day—” She tried, Dipper shifting and glancing away when she began to speak, a smile immediately cracking on her face when she knew she had her brother with his immensely weak resolve when it came to her pleas, his own agreeance clear to read with or without the mythical twin telepathy.

“Mabel…” The boy began, closing the book in his hands as his sister inched closer and closer, lacking subtlety in her pleading tactics. He wanted to rub his temples, ease off the impending headache that was swift to deliver but he knew it’d make his sister snort with laughter and call him an old man.

“C’mon bro-bro, _please_?” The boy physically caved in when the _bro-bro_ and _please_ cards were unfairly and simultaneously played, crumbling, Mabel fighting to keep her squeal internal while she held up the shameless false tears. Dipper pressed on that expression he had when he was seriously weighing his options, face scrunched up cutely and nose completely ready and needing to be poked but the glittery girl held back, excitement visibly bubbling as if she were to burst in any second.

A defeated sigh and a loose ‘alright’ left the younger twin as the elder released her squeal onslaught, enveloping her favorite twin brother in a squeezing hug that made every laughing breathe feel like the last.

Much like the Pines twins, they snuck out.

 

* * *

 

The bright sunlight reflected in the man’s hair, illuminating the well kept strands to give the faint appearance of the golden locks to glow in magnificence. A sly, bright smile was flashed out to the awed crowd here and there, the perfected whiteness adding to the obvious flaunt of his wealth, glinting in the light where one could almost swear for a split moment each was feral sharp, distributing to the stranger’s devilish flare. Today was a simple campaign; straightforward, a teaser.  
He stood there, atop the carriage drawn by dark horses in extravagant armor, hand smugly rested on a detailed holster proudly concealing a sharpened golden blade. His clothing was a mix of noblemen’s attire and sparse, cocky armor; shaded in black, white, and glaring gold, gaudy and decadent to a sharp extremism. There was an arrogant air about him, one knowing the spectacle they inflicted and gladly reveling in its glorious outcome.

An endlessly assortment of faces remained dazed, caught by him and the whirl that when he spoke so effortlessly they so effortlessly listened. One enthrallingly bright blue eye drank in his company; a malleable bunch. _Peasant meatbags._ It would be an excellent turn out; who knew how eagerly the venom of a rumor spread to those leading such dull lives? His grin grew, taking time to reel in his composure. It took patience to reach and dig about for a heartfelt moment.

Hearty wooden gates had been split and slammed open with large fanfare, the foreign oddity thriving with the onslaught of anticipation and attention, fueling the ego that bled through his veins. Upon the arrival of the fabled _Cipher_ a dead murmur whisked through the gathered townsfolk, their humble outskirt homes a stepping stone for the glorious castle the walls truly sought to protect; any life beneath the wealthy high class was barely worth a bat of an eyelash from the Queen.

“Well, well, well! How _glad_ I am to see so many of _you_ here!” There was an eccentric, grating lilt to the man’s voice, higher in pitch than expected for one so exotic, yet it dragged along the crowds with its absolute strange flare. There was no more mumbling; the only voice pinning through the warm day of the man elevated above the rest.

“My people,” He expanded, correcting himself, unsheathing the sword which glinted dangerously yet ethereally in the harsh sunlight, extending his arm in a lavish and careless manner, displaying the expensive weapon. The catlike grin never faded, sharp and attractive features that preferred to be held in prestige lowering his intensive gaze to meet the people's. The sole, bright blue eye pierced through each it landed upon, unnerving but beckoning all at once. The other remained unaccounted for, underneath a detailed triangular patch.  
Among the back of the crowd hid the twins, peeking out at the display. Mabel had gripped Dipper’s hand tightly, almost drooling over the apparent noble that had left the town in such an awe suspended state, the boy occasionally having to tug her back with an eyeroll lest they be unveiled. Familiar faces crowded all around them, a perfect shield as every last strand of attention was oozing onto the golden stranger.

There was something odd, unwelcoming yet familiar about the man’s presence, a strange aura suffocating the air of the simplistic town that left Dipper’s throat tight. Like a darkened void, the man sucked in all the energy flittering about him, the glow cast by the sunlight surreal and unfair. His grip tightened on Mabel’s, but this time not for her own sake, but his own reassurance. A determined expression was worn on the male’s face, unwavering for the sake of sating the mystery that circulated from the presence of the man before him.

“I welcome you—” Another wave of the hand, “Now aren’t I _courteous_?” And a devilish smirk grandiosely flashed. “To join my friends and I, Lord Cipher, on our route to liberation.” The accentuated our was amplified as he took a step down, not fully on the ground but merely on the steps that welcomed those worthy into the contents of the ornate transportation. A few leaps less unattainable. Grounded, if only a little.  
“Aren’t you tired of living in the shadows of the upper class?” He paused, seeming to wait to gaze through the crowd and firm his strong assumption, daring a voice to speak in waves against his own torrent, “Of—them?” The sword lazily waved in the direction of the towering castle, shimmering an opalescence that caught one’s eye as if a perfected snare.

Dipper’s breath caught in his heavy throat when the needlelike depth of azure stabbed through him, the sneer that lined the man’s face quickly dissolving into the genuine falsity of kindness and well intentions for all low class. Mabel winced, the younger twin offering a hushed apology once the pressuring gaze left him, feeling sheepish over the white tinge to his knuckles.

The hushed awe was slowly cracking to soft whispers, broken by the voice that sliced through with ease. “All are welcome.” A pause; there wasn’t much time before the guards wised up to the pleasant and completely legal terms which the man busted and entered the quaint town through. Outside wasn’t as pretty. “Thank you for your time. It’s been a real pleasure!”  
The crowd had been so smoothly following the man’s every word, latching to each syllable as if an unforgettable melody, the atmosphere thick and oppressive to Dipper, chest beginning to tighten as well.

The intelligent youth found the sharp gaze boring through him again, chocolate brown eyes tricked by the light to squint at the rarity which cornered him without barely lifting a finger. He refused to glance away, to let down the defiant challenge his mere questioning gaze proposed to one seemingly unopposed.  
_“A real pleasure.”_ A pleasantly sharp chuckle was elicited from the exotic man as he sheathed the glamorous expense, and with a flash of golden sunlight he disappeared into the elaborate carriage once more.

The town released its breathe in a deep sigh of unanonymous relief, order clinking back into its comfortable gears as the sound of hoofsteps thudded hastily away, left to mull over the gold noble’s offer. A massive disperse began with lively chatter resounding through the boiling, winding streets, new rumors and gossiping being born without a fleck of care.

Dipper felt the slow unfreezing of the tension that had seeped into his frame from the slow seconds that had ticked by, Mabel lightly shaking her brother and beginning to insist they best hurry home, voice excited by the current events but tainted with small amounts of worry. Her voice came about in a faded cadence, the boy nodding his head along to appear complaint as he reeled through his thoughts.

Neither twin expected to be grabbed roughly from the back collar of their shirts, barely suspended in the air by a strong, relentless grip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo woo we both made it ♥♥♥


	2. Paid through Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess its--some, form of that ? We'll go with.. kindness ...  
> ( ´▽` ;) Someone's brand of it. Yum.  
> Also some struggling figuring this website out I do admit shhh---

The seconds of thawing tension as shoulders slackened had been blissful.  
  
A sharp slice baring a jolt of panic’s knife cut the lingering ties Dipper felt to clouded thoughts ebbing and drowning into his mind. The iron grip that held his frame captive and vaguely suspended packed a harder punch of reality than Mabel’s hand leaving his clammy one. The eager tones of her voice, caught in the awe of what unfolded before twinkling eyes while distant in the spell of the boy’s mind, were silenced completely. The girl was brought into a weaker, culpable state. For a split of time, the male youth felt isolated, save the fist taking a strong hold and twist of cloth, lacking a certain intent as it dug into the back of his shirt and gave no purposeful pain.  
It was familiar.  
That proved to make the situation _worse_ . Much, much _worse._  
  
In the pitter patter mess made of his heart the fight-or-flight switch had been unknowingly flicked on, simmered into his core awaiting a catalyst. The emotion had sprouted by the outlandish stranger’s predatory gaze, holding the speaker’s listeners captive, spurred by the mystery and determination coursing through every breath and smooth utterance, presence crushing and piercing through the inquisitive twin. The massive show which promised a late encore struck a mistuned note down to the boy’s nerves.  
  
As quick as the encounter begun, the teen took to struggling, fists uselessly striking the air and breath hitching a couple notches in preparation to feed the adrenaline revving to rush through his veins at any given second—  
  
Which slowed down as the possibility never came.  
  
The instinct was snuffed as soon as it was sparked by a nonchalant mumble of, “Sorry dudes,” quickly replacing the chilled panic with a warmth that spread onto the boy’s cheeks; a pinkish tint that reached from ears to nose. Mabel, held captive by the opposite hand, had seemingly gone through all stages of grief about her own path, head hung low to form a shamed curtain of thick brown locks.  
  
A sense of guilt was trickling into the atmosphere, followed by a swift kick of winding realization. “Don’t want the Stans after me, y’know,” The voice was somewhat gruff from the wear of outdoors but unmistakably feminine. A scouting glance with chocolate brown eyes confirmed a ginger lumberjack’s daughter, clothed for the summery hot day to be spent indoors mulling over boxes in the shack.  
Normally the sight would bring a dreamy flutter to Dipper’s heart, make his chest cave with a sense of tingly awkwardness that dried out any sensible words from touching his tongue. But this time it only festered a sense of dread that made itself doubled by his twin’s silence.  
  
There was a sharp tug to his collar and Dipper offered up his compliance, willing away the lingering flighty urges. The mere fact that _Wendy_ was actually _acting_ on the whims of their grunkles gave a hint of which of the two was the most upset, and that left an unsettling knot in the root of his stomach. Otherwise the boy knew the fellow teenager would have gladly released the twins, laughed off their looks of panic and shock, gave Dipper an admittedly strong playful punch to the shoulder as Mabel tackled into the girl’s side with a hearty laugh. It wouldn’t budge the redhead a step, but it’d lighten up the thickness of the air.  
  
And then, then—the three troublesome teens would run off to mess about in favor of returning to work. More often than not that was how these instances played out, a chance to break from the labor of running a sham than to actually scold any mischievous underhanded actions. Maybe Mabel and Wendy would have teamed up to cheer on Dipper to scramble up the heights of sturdy pines, and together they’d soak in the harsh sunlight the tiresome day offered.  
  
Dipper’s mind reeled, mumbling _something_ aloud so quietly he didn’t even register it himself. He stayed numb with a whirlwind of emotions picking through his inquisitive mind, leaving it uncharacteristically blank.  
  
A ruckus had stirred through the murmuring town regaining its systematic ways, recovering from the rude and gilded interruption. It had provided a weird sense of hope, awe, and discomfort that placed the Fall’s inhabitants on edge.  
A guard had wandered in the wide gates, exasperated with a look of twisted despair defining his tired features. A hand was tightly pressed to his own chest, lacking armor drenched with a growing darkness, announcing silent words with a disjointed jaw. The commotation provided blank static in the back of the boy’s mind as a much more insistent nudge pulled him along.  
  
Both the twins were dragged back to the Mystery Shack, engulfed by the solemn atmosphere that promised the inevitable.  
 

* * *

  
Having their ears sliced off and returned to them on a silver, glittery platter would have been far more pleasant compared to the rant Dipper and Mabel had been put through. Or maybe having their minds warped by the weird, voodoo magic sworn to wipe memories into a clear, blank slate. Malleable and fresh albeit somewhat brain dead—and free of the dull ring in their eardrums.  
  
When they had entered the shack by rickety steps with downcast faces ridden with a gross sense of guilt, Wendy had promptly muttered a form of _‘good luck’_ partnered with a brisk, friendly pat to the back. The redhead knew to exit the familial trainwreck before being forced to witness it burn up into flames, the scorching temperature leaving a sour taste in everyone’s mouth.  
She had taken a moment to peer over her shoulder at the twins as they loitered on the front porch, gut fumbling with the knowledge of sending her friends to their doom. But it was better to be momentarily on the bad side of the young Pines twins than forever on the elder pair’s.  
  
Stanley’s face had lit with a flash of relief that came from the collapse of stubborn worry, the stance he held painfully rigid. Strong arms, upheld from youthful adventures remained crossed tight against his chest. The look was immediately replaced with one that tried and miserably failed to mirror the sternness worn on a similar face, one that had the creases of someone who had been pacing through the floor moments ago out of both preoccupation and fury blurred together.      
  
Stanford’s fist had raised in a tightened moment of rage, but never went past that, being shaken and uncurled to vent his frustration as a heavy sigh was released. The man had taken to rubbing his temples, stress evident throughout every ounce of his figure. The two older men refused to lift a finger and harm the young twins under their care, decided on making the last known Pines family ties to be the strongest. It didn’t mean his words couldn’t bite into them instead.  
  
_“Where_ have you _been_?” The redundant question sliced through the seemingly impenetrable atmosphere. The silence that failed to meekly fill the room answered the man’s question, Dipper’s jaw falling slack and feeling dumb, mouth sealed with shared blame.  A fire burned on his face, making an uncomfortable sweat form at the back of his neck. Mabel had found a well-met stain of spilled potions on the floor incredibly intriguing compared to the looks on their greatuncles’ faces.  
  
“You could have been _killed_ _—"_ So it began.  
  
And now, Mabel laid in her bed with a miserable look that didn’t match such a cheerful face, Dipper worrying holes and tracks into the attic floor. Echoes of _“We were worried sick,”_ and _“You don’t understand how dangerous such a_ stupid _action that was”_ played in the teen’s mind on repeat. Stupid, stupid, _stupid._  
He understood the serious level Ford’s warnings and requests always were held at, weighed on high from his rigorous connection to the Northwests. So many risks being bound to questionable wealth, so many risks, it was grinded into his thoughts. But the undying craving to investigate had wound the twins under practical probation.  
  
For the first time, he and Mabel were actually being _punished._ With every metaphorical chain, rope, lock and key Ford could forge, they were kept in a tight-knit radius of the shack and their grunkle’s supervision. A touch bit to Stan’s dismay, Ford had chosen to hole himself away in his study found beneath their home and shop out of distress and a firmness to remain close. Often he did his hefty research in the confines of the castle, surrounded with ample material; but the shock of the day and the twins’ careless choices made the comfort of home a necessity.  
  
Mabel had tilted her head to watch her brother as he took his sixteenth round about the room, wanting to reach out and tap into the deep thinking which kept his eyebrows so tightly knit. She could read his stress like none other; some of it making her own head pound in empathy. For a moment her mouth opened, mind reeling for a handful of words to drag him from drowning in his thoughts. Any response had no words to make it sound out aloud, lips clasping shut once more.    
  
Dipper was festering in a cesspool of embarrassment, guilt, and anger all his own—directed completely towards himself. He felt responsible, allowing them to step outside the comfortable perimeter of _just_ outside the petty town and its strange events. It was not uncommon for his boundless curiosity and his sister’s limitless excitement to partner towards a dangerous choice, an idiotic decision. More than once had they scrapped against horrific beasts that condemned their meddling; more than once had they been scolded but unscathed.  
Yet he had never seen Ford quite so frenzied by any of these childish, adventure-seeking, knowledge-eager endeavours.  
  
He continually worried his fingers through brunette curls, tweaking strands here in there as a form of distraction. His mind kept flashing between the piercing azure gaze that found him— _them_ in the crowd, a silvery dagger of its own, and the distraught disappointment that tore into him with equal ferocity. Dipper didn’t understand either; but he restlessly _needed_ to.  
  
For a moment, his attention drifted to Mabel, heart sinking at the expression she wore. The grounding didn’t just stop them from seeing the world and the exploration it offered, but from meeting with their friends— _her_ friends—for a decent while. Like when they were much younger, they’d be subjected to homeschooling under Ford’s care.  
  
He wanted to reach out to her, to rummage and find something to bring joy to gloss over their grunkle’s justified paranoia. Earn one of those famously bright smiles from his twin, even if for a short while. But his throat remained dry with the displeasure of dumb quietness that was not a split tranquil.  
  
The twins stayed like this, Mabel cuddling into the hefty mass of comfort that composed Waddles, getting soft _oinks_ of reassurance.  
 

* * *

  
The sun still glistened, harsh and domineering with its intensive rays that ruled the daylight. The air inside the carriage was far cooler, the soothing buzz of the world shut out in time with the resounding _slam_ of well-crafted doors lined with riches. A pompous yellow being stared right through the one across him, tense in their seat, flinching when the noble carelessly plopped into his own and reclined.    
  
“I’d say that was a _quite_ the hit, wouldn’t you?” There was a flash of the charming smug grin again, teeth most certainly glinting with a sharp edge. It made the overdressed male across him stiffen, swallow thickly, slipping to regain an unfindable composure. There was an impossible gap between putting on a show for this man and the dunder of subjects below him.  
  
The golden man tutted at the lack of response, smoothly rolling it off sharp shoulders. There was a telling tremor of the extravagant, shaded carriage, hoofbeats sounding as the driver followed the swift haste he was instructed.  
  
Languidly he watched through the windows of the high seating, the grin inhumanly growing on curled lips with the satisfyingly _tha-thump_ being crushed beneath wheels and dark hooves. A gross, wet sound, sometimes accompanied by a groan was muffled by the whirl of wind. It repeated several times; each one music to the “Lord’s” ears.  
  
A glinting azure eye placed its focus on the tense man. “Much more than _yours_ , that’s for sure.” Another flashy, taunting smirk was given to his stout companion, lavishing in the spike of warm anger detailed on his full face. “I mean, they _actually_ listened to _me_!” The golden male let off his pitchy, sharp laugh, one nothing like the pleasant chuckle given to the warmed audience, grating through nerves with joyous ease.  
  
“Now you listen here—” The younger of the two snapped, voice laced with a fiery bluntness that was cut off by the grand man across him suddenly leaning dangerously close. A flash of red had struck through the azure eyes, pupil a deep maroon; perhaps the very tips of fine, blonde hair had a pinkish tinge. The immediate, immense, look on the man’s face was enough to make the boy’s tongue go numb, remark lost.  
  
“ _What_ was _that,_ Gideon _?_ ” Silence. Each syllable had been a testingly sharp _click_ against the blue clad youth, jabbing into him. Another dull _thud_ of the wheels beneath was heard. The smirk regrew, but Cipher hadn’t leaned back. He kept pressuring the man with his overwhelming presence, waiting for another quip to dare leave a greedily loud mouth. The tension thick air lingered for an uncomfortable stretch of time, sweat beginning to bead on Gideon’s brow to maintain an unwavering expression.  
  
Another harsh laugh reverberated through the carriage, “Thought so.” A look of pleased realization played on Cipher’s face as Gideon’s heart dropped further, steeling his gaze in retaliation. The flash of red had faded slowly into a smolder, long and easily forgotten. He hadn’t leaned back.  
  
“Ah, and here’s a little something for _you_ ,” Gideon visibly winced hearing an odd chatter sound as the noble dug through the pocket of his dark coat, “Humans are nastily _sentimental_ creatures, after all,” It was a muse all for his own ears.  
  
“A mom _ento_!” Gideon bit back the noise of displeasured startle when a grotesque wad of human teeth and fresh gums was all too happily unleashed by a tightened fist and dispersed onto his lap. Splotches of crimson—especially from the bits of excess gums—soaked into finely tailored clothing, unlikely to be ever be washed out. He was forced to swallow the bubbling bile that contorted in the back of his throat, face heating in a mix of disgust and embarrassment at the amusement in a piercing eye.  
  
“Could make a  _real_ charming necklace, I’ve heard guard’s molar runs a rather _generous_ price,” There was sharp click of Bill’s tongue, finally easing away and reclining nonchalantly in his rightful seat. “Take it as commemoration for the first step.” A feral grin that reveled in his cohorts dismay flashed imperiously at Gideon, boiling the anger resounding deep inside the stout frame.  
Cipher gave a low, content whistle as he peered back out the window, watching as the scenery became thick with forestry that blanketed the village. A thicket that birthed both a sense of safety and superstitious fear in the feeble peasants encased by it. No more crunching _thuds_ were heard, only the sharp crackle of twigs.  
  
“Kid, you are an absolute  _bore_.” The golden male mumbled, earning a sharp pale blue glare that was never backed up with any biting words. A shame. The noblemen knew what the latter wished to lash back: _you’re a nuisance, insane, so forth, typical,_ but Gideon was painfully aware of the untouchable boundaries that were all too seering to test again so soon. Awful.  
A flicker of remembrance went through the being’s mind, a reminder of a task left undone and a moment impending from any angle, wheezing a cough and toying with the growing dull ringing in this brain.  
  
Without any warning, a painful electric jolt wracked through Gideon’s body and nerves, mind hazy and dark as he peered up to the world with a growing bleary monochromatic viewpoint. His vision was whirling, circling and centric on one cause, the vibrancy of the day forfeited. In front of him, in his peripherals, all around and present was a being so loudly bright it’d be laughable if he hadn’t know so well it's true make.  
  
Across him the blonde noblemen was slumped over, shown eye ghostly white and glazed over with a lacking presence, dark skin deeply paled with the kin of death. The tired abuse that would never show in the puppet’s demeanour while upkept by its host was all that presented itself, limp and unaccessible. The man felt the same nasty bile creep up to his mouth as before, bitter and metallic.  
  
The triangular glow was stretching its slim black limbs as if it mattered, a low buzz resounding from its raw overwhelming energy. _“Well, this day’s been_ **o h so** _fun,”_ Gideon craved to cover his ears from the grating irregular voice, block out a substance that had no source, _“But I have a bit more_ **pressing** _matters to tend to.”_  
  
_“Oh, take care of my_ **flesh sack** _would you?”_ The being hummed softly, smoothing its version of hands against the back of its own slumped mass, returning with flecks of blood he flicked off his touch. Disgusting. Arrows had dug into the back of his frame, carelessly ripped out in favor of time. Cipher was lucky to wear a black so deep the smears of crimson blended into the fabric, lucky to never expose his back to the crowd. He mused at the reactions it could have wrought, the looks of horror, eye crinkling with speculated delight.

 _“Humans are so_ **m e s s y** , _so fragile_ , _it's hilariously foul_ _—_ _I almost always forget, not sure how!”_ A pitchy mock of a laugh broke through the condensed space relentlessly. Gideon felt so close to the bliss of blacking out, the wringing and the contracting of his mind taking a hefty toll on his being. He felt a light playful slap to the thick side of his face, pressure intensifying at the energy’s closeness. _“Don’t want to lose the_ prettiest chance _, after all!”_

* * *

  
The pulsating world stilled once pale eyes reopened.  
  
Gideon let out a deep breath as the torturous atmosphere seeped into normality, slumping back in his chair with the pain of relaxing a dangerous tension. His gaze fixed on the bleeding, tired form he must order others to care for later, make up false excuses and heedy threats; groaning in annoyance. Sometimes the desperation failure bred would bring about stranger means to meet the same ends as before.  
However, this time it came with a partnership where each was confident the other was the pawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAA this a lot of learning/pushing/experimenting for me,, but super fun! Much more than I planned, but much more is unfolding as thoroughly as manageable!  
> gotta bust buns (/)\\\w//(\\)


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